


Don't Get Too Political 2: Time is Like Thunder (Ah Ah)

by Balkanika_52



Series: Don't Get Too Political [2]
Category: Eurovision Song Contest RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Eurovision Song Contest, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cliffhangers, Domestic Fluff, Eurovision Song Contest 1990, M/M, Minor Violence, Time Travel, action and adventure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:34:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25938232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Balkanika_52/pseuds/Balkanika_52
Summary: Unbeknownst to Toto Cutugno, his actions during his 1990 Eurovision-winning performance of Insieme:1992 have led to half of the current Eurovision winners to vanish from history itself. Amongst them is the Euro365 crew’s very own Duncan Laurence. With the integrity of the worldwide music industry at stake, it is up to the rest of the gang to save Duncan and the rest of the winners, or the world will never be the same.Will Vanja rescue his fiancé in time for their wedding?Will Vancan be able to do it?
Relationships: Vanja Radovanović/Duncan Laurence
Series: Don't Get Too Political [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1877320
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	1. Follow My Heart

“Wake up!” A voice whispered. Vanja opened his eyes groggily, blinking a few times, and lifted his head from where he had apparently fallen asleep, a mountain of paperwork acting as a makeshift pillow. His vision was blurry due to not wearing his glasses, but he could have recognised the person who had woken him even if he were blind. It didn’t hurt, of course, that the man who had woken him was barely half a meter away from his face, a smile dancing across his mouth. “H-hey, Duncy.” He murmured, his face starting to turn pink. “How long have you been watching me sleep?”

They had been dating for nearly a year, but Vanja still got shy around the man he loved.

Duncan made him happy, yes, but he also made him unsure of how to properly express his feelings sometimes, and, more often than not, he turned into a blushing mess. The other man straightened up, taking a seat on the edge of the desk. “I got here about five minutes ago. Didn’t want to wake you at first, but then I realised you were sleeping on some pretty important stuff. Here--you might need these.” Duncan held out Vanja’s glasses, which had been lying on the far corner of the desk. He slipped them on and smiled softly. “Thank you,  _ ljubavi.  _ Now I can see you properly.”

“Can I get a kiss as thanks?” The pink tinging Vanja’s cheeks deepened to red, much to Duncan’s amusement. It was one of the little things he had noticed over the course of their relationship that they expressed differently. When Duncan got flustered around Vanja, his heartbeat skyrocketed, but when Vanja got flustered around Duncan, he turned redder than the Montenegrin flag, which made for an interesting contrast with his dark hair. “Well, since you asked so nicely, how can I say no?” Duncan grinned, leaning down to brush his lips against Vanja’s in a soft kiss. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Ugh, get a room, you two.” Ness and Vogel had arrived, and, from the look of it, were fighting a lack of sleep. “In case you couldn’t tell, we’re  _ in _ a room, Vogel. How’s the economy doing?” The others shared a collective sigh at Duncan’s failed attempt to change the subject. “To answer your question seriously, it’s doing better now that a madman isn’t running the United States.”

“Not a complete one, anyways.” Ness muttered, sending off a wave of laughs. “True enough. But at least we’re going to be completely packed for months to come. Profits should be high the rest of the year. Maybe we can actually go on vacation for once, instead of having to run across the continent like we did last year.”

Vogel, surprisingly, was optimistic about their prospects--even though they had had a good year so far, there was always something she found to worry about. “We could go to Japan, maybe? There are a few places on my bucket list still. Then again, we had an entire month off and went to Bulgaria in December. Maybe we just chill at home for once instead of having another grand adventure where we fight another world leader.”

“Where’s the fun in that? My Netflix queue  _ is  _ getting pretty full, though.” Vanja admitted, leaning back is his chair and barely holding off a yawn. He hadn’t slept well the previous night, a nightmare keeping his mind too alert to fall asleep for a substantial amount of time, so he had come into work early to hopefully get some things done so he could have a night off for once.

Since he had fallen asleep on top of all that paperwork, though, it didn’t seem to have worked. “You need help with that?” Ness asked, nodding to the stack of papers. “Yes,  _ please _ .” With the help of his friends (and despite Duncan trying his best to distract him with random displays of affection), the paperwork got done and mailed out within a couple of hours, leaving him free to spend the rest of the daylight hours running errands around Belgrade. “Honey, I’m home!”

“That stopped being hilarious ages ago. Still funny, though.” Duncan murmured, not looking up from his sheet music as Vanja came through the door of their apartment, several bags and a book in hand. “I can try to be funny now and then, can’t I?” He hummed for a second before getting up to help with the groceries, setting the sheaf of papers aside. “You can  _ try _ , but it doesn’t always work, you know what I mean?”

He was right, in a way; humor wasn’t always Vanja’s strong suit. Sometimes it paid off more to be serious. “You’re no fun sometimes, Duncan.” He pouted, which made the other man laugh before kissing him on the cheek. “I might be a buzzkill, but I’m  _ your  _ buzzkill, and it’s one of the reasons why you love me. Come on--they’re gonna be mad at us if we’re late.” Duncan grabbed his jacket, patting one of the pockets surreptitiously to make sure the small box he had stashed in it hours earlier was still there, and walked the short distance with Vanja from their apartment to the club, which, unsurprisingly, was already packed. “Is it random request night? I forgot.”

“Yep. Someone’s requested ‘We Could Be The Same’ five times already. Might as well play it now.” Vogel hit a button on the custom turntable in front of her and the opening of the 2010 Turkish entry echoed throughout the club, causing a majority of the patrons to cheer loudly. “Can’t blame our serial requester, it really is a banger.”

“Vanja, I love you, but please  _ never  _ use that word again.” Duncan pleaded, causing the others to break into laughter. “What, can he not use modern slang?” Ness asked, raising an eyebrow. “It just doesn’t sound right coming from you, Vanja, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah. I guess it’s like you  _ not  _ using the phrase ‘you know what I mean’ a million times a day.” The clapback stunned Duncan out of whatever he was going to say next, eventually blurting out, “I don’t use it that much!” Upon seeing the looks his friends and boyfriend exchanged, he asked quietly, “do I?”

Silence (or as much silence that could exist in a packed nightclub) filled the air before Vogel eventually answered, “You do. But that’s just one of many things that makes you  _ you _ .” Her response made Duncan feel a bit better about his catchphrase, and as ‘We Could Be The Same’ faded out and was replaced with the first notes of ‘La det swinge’, he took Vanja’s hand in his. “Dance with me?” A smile quickly spread across Vanja’s face as he replied, “I thought you’d never ask.”  _ This _ , Vanja thought, was the perfect definition of a night off for him. Still technically at work, but able to have fun while doing it--and sneaking in a dance or two with the object of his affection didn’t hurt, either.

Hours later, Vanja and Duncan were walking home when Duncan suddenly stopped to look down at the Danube rushing below the bridge. “Euro for your thoughts?” Vanja asked softly, joining him in watching the water. “I’ve got something to ask you, but then you go and ask  _ me  _ a question.” Duncan murmured, laughing a little.

“Fire away. You know I’m an open book.” When Duncan didn’t answer, Vanja turned to look at him--only to find that his boyfriend had gotten down on one knee, a small box in his hands.

He could only think of one thing to say.

“ _ Sranje.” _


	2. Marry Me

Duncan didn’t know exactly what to expect when he got down on one knee with a ring in front of his boyfriend, but he didn’t expect him to swear. “Wait. Before you say anything else, let me ask you my question. Vanja, I love you. I know that we’ve only been together for a year, but there isn’t anyone else I’d rather spend my life with. We’ve had a bunch of insane adventures together already, and I can’t wait to have more, if we want to.” He cracked open the box to reveal a silver band set with dark blue gems before he took a deep breath and asked the question that had been on his mind for the entire night. “Vanja, will you marry me?”

A moment passed.

Then another.

“Of course I will.” It was the answer Duncan had wanted to hear, but  _ actually  _ hearing it said out loud sent his world spinning.

He said  _ yes. _

As he got back up and put the ring on Vanja’s finger, joy rushed through his body like adrenaline, making him feel like he could do just about anything, as long as Vanja was with him. Then came the butterflies. “You alright?” He laughed, nodding slowly. “How could I not be? You agreed to marry me. It’s all just hitting me now, you know what I mean? Right now, all I want to do is kiss you and fall asleep next to you. You make me feel unstoppable, Vanja.” The man in question smiled before kissing him gently, embracing him as he did so. “Save the unstoppableness for tomorrow, alright? We both need some sleep.” And sleep they did, together, Vanja tucked comfortably under one of Duncan’s arms, both of them tucked under the covers, their hands entwined. Not even sleep could keep them from showing affection for each other.

The next morning, Vanja was awoken by the smell of pancakes, at first not noticing that Duncan wasn’t in bed next to him and wondering where it had come from. Then it hit him, and he chuckled quietly to himself before getting dressed and walking over to the kitchen, where he found Duncan hard at work at the stove over a frying pan. “ _ Dobro jutro, ljubavi.” _ He murmured as he hugged him from behind. “Smells good.”

“Hopefully it tastes good, too, right? Would you mind setting the table?” They bustled around the kitchen and each other as they got what needed to be done before sitting down to enjoy their breakfast together. “So…” Duncan trailed off. “How do we think Ness and Vogel are gonna react to the news?” The man sitting across from him let out a snort of a laugh. “They’ll probably ask what took us so long. Or,” he continued, sliding his phone over to Duncan’s side of the table, “they’ll be yelling at us for having to learn of our engagement through paparazzi photos.”

Dread settled into his stomach alongside the pancakes.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

Unfortunately, his fiancé wasn’t. Photos of him proposing, along with them kissing, filled the phone screen. “They can’t leave us alone for one day, can they?” What was supposed to have been a private, intimate moment between them was now spreading across the internet faster than a wildfire. “Hey. Look at me.” He glanced up to see that Vanja had stretched his hand out across the table, and he took it, grateful for the contact. “It’s going to be okay, Duncan. We have our friends, but most importantly, we have each other.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. Now stop worrying and finish your breakfast.” It was meant to be slightly serious, but it made him laugh. “You’re getting better with humor. Just don’t go too far.”

“Shut up and help me with the dishes.” Not the most romantic sentiment Vanja had ever shared, but it still earned him a kiss on the cheek as they got up to clean the kitchen before heading to work, where they found Vogel sitting on the main floor, fixing a speaker, the space around her covered in wires, screws, and tools. “Morning.” Was all she said before diving back into the inner workings of the device. “What, you’re not going to yell at us because of the paparazzi photos?” She snorted as she fiddled with a screwdriver. “Hardly. It’s not your fault your engagement got leaked to the press. Besides, no press is bad press. Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thanks. Anything arrive before we got here?” A shake of the head was the answer they got, so they headed up to Vanja’s office to get the task ahead of them done: tidying it. Sometime between the previous morning and the current one, it had become unbearably messy to the point that Vanja couldn’t take it anymore. “How much paperwork does it  _ take  _ to run this club?” Duncan nearly whined as he organised half a dozen licenses into their places in the filing cabinet. “More than you know. Don’t whine too much, we’re almost done.” As Vanja spoke, he put a couple of books back on the shelf, careful not to knock over the crystal microphone that had been presented to Duncan when he had won Eurovision two years ago. He was curious about something, so he asked.

“Why do you keep this here, instead of back home in Rotterdam?” Duncan glanced up, a shy smile coming to his face. “Rotterdam isn’t home, Vanja.  _ Home  _ is wherever I’m with you, wherever we can be together. I keep the trophy here because it’s where we are. Plus, I know that you can keep it safe, no matter how messy your office might get.”

“How are you so sure?” Vanja asked, half teasingly, half seriously, as his fiancé straightened up and came closer to him, looping an arm around his waist. “Because you’re the one I trust with keeping my heart safe. If you can do that, you can take care of a trophy.”

“What did I ever do to deserve someone as sweet as you, Duncan?” His question was answered with a kiss. “You help me be the best version of myself. I guess what I’m saying is, you’re the best in me.”


	3. Quédate Conmigo (Stay With Me)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by the amazing @duncanlaurence.

Duncan felt as if he was running on air. He was engaged to a wonderful man, running a successful club and he was surrounded by loving and accepting friends. He felt as if he had reached the end of a movie, where, after deadly adventures and semi-romantic miscommunications, the main character finally had it all. Whenever he watched a movie with Vanja, Ness, and Vogel, he complained about that so-called “middle part”, where the drama reaches its climax. 

“It’s simply unrealistic…” he would start, only to get interrupted by three voices, “...that so much happens in such a short time” they would finish for him. 

He should have known that this bliss didn’t mean the end of the movie; it just meant that the characters were lulled into a false sense of security, only to have it all taken away in a snap. 

Vanja gave him a thoughtful look. Duncan knew he was quite an open book, but his fiancé seemed to be able to read him better than anyone else. No one really knew him like Vanja did, after all. “What’s on your mind?” He inquired, taking his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Do you really think this is it? That we’re safe?” He wondered aloud. “I got the trophy, but more importantly, I got the love interest to love me back. It just feels so soon. Maybe it’s because we’re so young.”

Vanja gave him a teasing smile. “First of all, how dare you assume that you are the main character here, Duncan de Moor?” That earned him a laugh. “Second, I do think we are safe. Trouble might come our way someday, but I have no doubt in my mind that we can overcome it. Call it the power of love, or something corny like that. We may be young, but that merely means that we can have a whole lot of love to spend on the rest of our long lives.”

Duncan felt overwhelmingly in love with the man standing so close to him. He was great with emotions on paper and in music. When he was sitting in front of his piano, words of affection seemed to flow out of him with no issue. Now, though, he felt at a loss for words. “You do know that I’m much younger than you are, right?” He attempted a playful smirk, but he was probably looking too lovesick to pull it off.

Vanja rolled his eyes and stepped even closer to him. “Please,” he said, “you’re just jealous of how amazing I look despite my age. Which is not old at all, by the way.”

Duncan gave him a chaste kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

That’s when it all came crashing down.

The whole world felt as though it was shaking. Duncan had never experienced an earthquake before, but he assumed it felt similar. He didn’t have time to ask himself if earthquakes happened in Serbia before he fell to his knees, holding his head in his hands as waves of pain washed over him. He felt as if his limbs were being ripped off, as if his whole body was on fire. “ _ VANJA! _ ” He cried out, blindly stretching his arms out to try and feel for his love.

Somewhere in the distance, he heard Vanja call out to him, but it was overshadowed by the noises in his head. His hand seemed to touch something human, something familiar, and he tried to hold on to it as the darkness grew around him. “Vanja, please, make it stop,” he begged, feeling his consciousness slip away.

In a millisecond that felt like ages, he saw all the things that he would never get to experience. Vanja and their wedding, slow dancing to a song that they had immediately agreed upon, surrounded by flowers that they spent weeks arguing about. Laughing until he cried with Ness and Vogel about some stupid video on YouTube. Dancing in the club until the late hours of the night, screaming the lyrics with his friends until his throat felt sore. Tipsy walks along the river in the moonlight, holding Vanja’s hand, feeling the wedding ring there, steady as ever. Waking up next to him every single day, reminding himself of his vows at their wedding, “until death do us part.”

_ It wasn’t supposed to be like this. _

_ It wasn’t supposed to… _

All was black.


	4. Valentine Lost

_ He was gone. _

One moment, Duncan was there, and the next, he wasn’t. He had crumbled to dust in front of Vanja, and he was powerless to stop it. His first instinct was to scream, to cry, to have  _ some _ sort of emotional reaction besides shock, but even thinking about it proved to be too much for him to handle.

So instead, he fainted, his rage and surprise rushing to his head as he collapsed. The last thing he saw before it all slipped away was Ness running through the doorway, yelling something over her shoulder, and then it all went dark.

When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer in his office, but back home, in bed, Ness and Vogel sitting at the bedside, talking quietly amongst themselves. His heart in his throat, he could only whisper two words before the tears started.

“He disappeared.” The floodgates opened, and with them came full-on sobs. The girls were unsure what to do--they had never seen Vanja cry before, not like this, at least, and were at a loss as to how to proceed. Vogel was reaching for the tissue box when the black lump she had assumed was a pillow suddenly grew legs and walked up the bed to where Vanja was crying, sitting down beside him.

It turned out that the two men had adopted a cat sometime in the past few months. “Praznina, come here.” Vanja managed through his tears, and the cat obediently climbed onto his lap, purring in a calming fashion. Her presence seemed to help him get the crying under control, because after giving her a few pets the tears had stopped. “Something’s happened to Duncan.” Ness and Vogel exchanged a look before the former spoke. “We know. It’s not just Duncan. There have been reports all over the continent. Somehow, half of the living Eurovision winners have disappeared from existence.”

“People don’t just disappear.” He said stubbornly, but even as the words came out he knew it was the truth. He had seen it happen himself--seen his fiancé become ash. “What could have made this happen?” For the first time in ages, they were all in the dark as to what to do. Vanja was brokenhearted; he had lost the one person who knew how to make him happy even on a bad day. 

He had lost Duncan, and unless he could get him back, he would never be the same.

Over the next week, despite his friends’ best efforts, Vanja became a shell of his former self. What was left of his sense of humor turned caustic and dark, and if it weren’t for Praznina meowing angrily at him until he ate, he would have likely stopped eating outright. For days, he turned up to work with dark circles under his eyes that even his glasses couldn’t hide, the only visible sign that he had woken up screaming every night as his mind forced him to experience the moment he lost the love of his life again and again. He had tried taking sleep aids, but they didn’t work.

Nothing did.

Even his hands had become abnormally cold, as if only Duncan’s touch could make them warm again.

It was two weeks later that the Euro365 crew were paid a visit by someone they didn’t know, but who claimed to know what had happened to half the Eurovision winners--and how to reverse it. “Start from the beginning. Who are you, and how do you know what happened?”

“The name’s Josie. I work as a historian and translator for the EBU. A couple of days before half of the living Eurovision winners disappeared off of the face of the earth, something in the archives caught my eye.” She slid a photograph across the desk. It was old enough to begin to turn slightly yellow at the edges, but it was still easy to make out who was in it. “Toto Cutugno, after he won Eurovision in 1990.”

“Something’s out of place.” Ness pointed out, tapping a spot on the photo with her finger. In Toto’s hand was a familiar crystal microphone--the Eurovision trophy.

There was just one problem, though; the trophy wasn’t in the shape of a microphone until 2008, nearly two decades after this photo had been taken. Glancing over at the trophy on the bookshelf, Vanja could barely hold back his tears, but managed to do so. “History has changed. When they gave him that trophy, he erased half of the living winners. Including my fiancé.” The expression on his face shifted from sorrow to pure rage.

“I’m going to kill him.”

“There’s another way to undo this. One that doesn’t end up with you in prison for murder. We have to go back in time and stop Toto from ever winning.” At first, Vanja thought that the historian had either gone off the deep end or decided to make an unfortunate joke, but he somehow knew that she was dead serious. “Time travel?” She nodded before continuing, “I think the key is the trophy. Or, rather,  _ trophies _ . Something tells me that all the microphone trophies might be able to transport people between points in time. Call it a hunch, I don’t know.”

“So we test it out. One question, though.” Ness turned to their new friend. “Why did you come to us? You could have gone to anyone else with this evidence.” The other woman’s gaze dipped for a bit before returning to eye level. “Let’s just say that I’ve been wanting to fight Toto Cutugno for the better part of three years. I had a falling out with someone solely because they thought he was attractive.”

“Understandable.”

They began their plan after confirming that they could actually use the trophy they had to time travel, but quickly hit a snag. “We can’t go to Belgrade. We have to stay in Zagreb.” At first, Vogel was going to ask  _ why _ , until she remembered that Vanja had spent a good deal of his childhood in Belgrade, and the last thing they wanted to do was to cause a temporal paradox when trying to fix history and get their friend back. “Okay. We stay in Zagreb. Next part: how do we stop Toto from winning?”

“What stopped Manel Navarro from getting anything higher than bottom five?” They all cringed as they remembered the unfortunate note that had netted the Spanish singer a last place in 2017. “A voice crack. How do we get him to do that?”

A spark of an idea flared in Vanja’s head. “ _ He  _ doesn’t have to do the voice crack. His backing singers were a Slovene group, Pepel in Kri. We just have to replace them and do the worst possible backing vocals.” It was going to hurt him to use his voice in such a way, but he would have done anything to get the man he loved back.

The night before they left for Zagreb, Vanja was packing a bag and returning to the closet for more clothes when he reached a familiar sweater--one that set off a memory from not too long ago, just before Duncan’s last concert in Rotterdam.

_ “Duncan, have you seen my red sweater?” He walked out of the bedroom only to see that his boyfriend was wearing the sweater in question, the sleeves pushed up above his forearms so that the scarab tattooed on his right arm was partially hidden. It was a bit loose on him, since he was a little shorter than Vanja, but he looked good in it. “Duncan de Moor.” _

_ “Vanja Radovanović.” Duncan replied dramatically in the same tone, smirking a bit, which made Vanja a little flustered. “Why are you wearing my sweater?” He managed to ask. “It looked comfy. And this is my way of having you with me when I’m onstage.” _

_ His words made Vanja’s heart skip a beat; even though he had promised Duncan he would be backstage during the concert and waiting in the wings to kiss him when it was over, he  _ still _ wanted him to be even closer to him. “Alright.” He finally said, giving him a quick kiss. “Just don’t make a habit of stealing my clothes, or else I’ll have nothing to wear.” _

_ His boyfriend grinned at that. “And that would be a problem  _ how _ , exactly?” _

The memory faded. Vanja glanced down at the sweater in his hands and the ring on his finger, his eyes misting over, and whispered, “I’ll let you steal my clothes every damn day if it means I get you back.”


	5. Nocturne

“Just picture it in your mind. Zagreb, 1990, the day before the live show.” They had been going over this for nearly an hour, drawing upon videos and photographs they found online, as well as what Vanja could remember from the week he had spent there as a child. “I think this is it. We can do this, can’t we?”

“We have to. Not just for Duncan, but for the others who got wiped out, too. Ready?” Each of them placed a hand on the trophy before taking a deep breath and picturing their destination in their heads. Almost immediately, their settings shifted, the air changing to something more unfamiliar. “I think it worked.” Vanja blinked once, straining his ears to hear outside. “Well, we’re not in Belgrade anymore. There’s a lot more Croatian being spoken.” Vogel shook her head, smiling slightly at his observation. “I still don’t know how you manage to tell them apart.”

“Call it the Balkan gift.”

It was the closest thing he had made to a joke in weeks, so it surprised all of them. Maybe the time travelling hadn’t just transported them to the past, but had brought back some of the old Vanja as well. Josie peered out the window. “Well, we’re definitely not in 2021 anymore.” Her words rang true. The scene outside was far different from the Zagreb in their time, but one thing cemented that they had gone back over thirty years in time: banners advertising the 1990 Eurovision Song Contest. “We made it.”

Blinking a few times, partially out of shock and partially because he was wearing contacts for the first time in a few months, Vanja felt a sense of purpose wash over him. They had a plan to get the man he loved back, and the first step had already worked.

As for the second step...it was going to be a lot trickier.

After they got their bearings and headed over to the Vatroslav Lisinski Concert Hall, where that year’s Eurovision was being hosted, they ran into a problem immediately, quite similar to what had happened the previous year in Baku. They were checking identification and delegation passes at the main entrance. “I doubt demanding to speak to the manager will help here.”

“Good, because I said I’d never do it again.” Ness retorted, elbowing Vanja in the ribs. He rolled his eyes before rubbing the spot where her elbow had hit him. “First of all,  _ ouch _ . Second of all, I may get a few weird looks because of my accent, but I can probably charm our way in and backstage. Then we can get this party started. Ness, you got our secret weapon?” She patted her pocket, then nodded. “It’s gonna be messy, but it’ll get us what we need.”

Thanks to Vanja’s smooth-talking skills, they got through the doors of the concert hall relatively easily and managed to make it backstage to where the dressing rooms were. “Ireland...Israel...ah. Italy. Here we are.” With her friends watching out for anyone coming their way, Ness turned the knob of the dressing room door and quietly slipped inside, finding the water cooler in the room and adding the contents of the vial to it. She watched the dark brown liquid swirl around inside the container for a moment before settling towards the bottom, where it was unlikely to be seen unless someone was looking on purpose.

“Now, we wait.”

It turned out they didn’t have to wait for long, as the Italian delegation soon came around the corner. At the head of the pack was the man they were there to stop: Toto Cutugno. Vanja nearly hissed when he saw him, a murderous look passing across his face. He wasn’t the only one expressing disgust at Toto’s appearance, though. “The man looks like a sculpture gone wrong,” Josie muttered angrily. “Who would ever think that he’s hot?”

“As someone who’s attracted to men, I agree with you.” A moment passed before the unmistakable sounds of several people retching filled the hallway. “You weren’t kidding when you said it was gonna be messy, Ness.” Vogel muttered, covering her ears in a futile attempt to drown out the noises coming from around the corner. “That’s me, Ness the Mess.” She replied cheerfully, despite what she had done. “250 mil of ipecac works wonders. Pukey wonders, but wonders nonetheless.”

The measure, unpleasant as it was, brought back a memory for Vanja, one that had taken place just a month or so after he and Duncan had formally started dating. He had come down with a bad case of food poisoning, spending the better part of three days hunched over the toilet bowl, throwing up. No matter how disgusting it got, Duncan had stayed by his side, putting aside the song he was in the middle of writing to take care of him. For the duration of his illness, he had made sure that Vanja was as comfortable as he could be, rubbing his back to ease his pain and singing him to sleep, solely out of love.

_ If someone stuck by you through your worst moments _ , Vanja thought at the time,  _ that was how you knew they were the one. _

Love, he had found in the months that had passed since, wasn’t just holding Duncan’s hand, or kissing him, or even spending time with him.

Love was when his heart beat faster when he heard Duncan’s voice or got a text from him. It was falling asleep on his shoulder and waking up to a familiar pair of hazel eyes and a smile a few minutes later, always with a teasing question of ‘I’m not  _ that  _ boring, am I?’. It was when they called each other by pet names in their respective languages. Love was lying in bed and listening to music together through a pair of shared headphones as it poured rain outside, their hands barely touching.

And, yes, love was letting him steal his clothes, even if it meant he had to go without his favourite sweater for a day.

That love was the reason he hadn’t hesitated for Ness to take the actual backing singers out with ipecac so they could accomplish what they had travelled through time to do. The reason that, when he and his friends were ‘found rehearsing’ in one of the concert hall’s practise rooms and deemed to be talented enough to be the backing vocalists for the Italian entry, he didn’t stab Toto Cutugno the moment he saw his face up close, no matter how much he wanted to.

Because he was doing this for the man he would love until the day he died.


	6. Bandido

“How the hell are you not nervous? Or angry? Or both?” Vogel whispered to Vanja as they were getting ready the following day. Thankfully for them (but unfortunate for the EBU staff), Toto had demanded he get a separate dressing room, haranguing them until they ceded to his wishes. “I’m both of those things, but I’m trying to keep it cool. There’s more at stake here than my feelings-- _ any  _ of our feelings. I have a voice crack to do.”

“We all do, right?” Ness replied, slipping yet another hairpin into her slightly messy (or, for the 90s, perfect) updo. “On the last chorus. One in-unison voice crack on  _ insieme _ . After that, we sit through the voting, make sure Toto doesn’t win, make sure the trophy is the right one, and get ourselves back home. Then, we’re planning you two the wedding you deserve.” Vanja smiled softly, glancing down at his engagement ring. “I would expect nothing less.”

The show had already begun, and since Italy was slated to perform later in the evening, they had more time to go over the addendum to the plan; if, somehow, they were unable to get away without being noticed, they had a backup. “Trigger the fire alarm and then get out the back. Quite simple.” They had stashed their time-travelling trophy in a loose ceiling panel, so it was merely an effort of a quick boost to grab it and get back to their own time. Taking a deep breath, Vanja stood up, ready to face what was ahead of him.

Ironically enough, he was more nervous here than he had been when he was representing his own country.

Then again, his biggest concern at that time was nailing (not destroying) his vocal performance, and he hadn’t been doing it to bring his fiancé back to life. He hadn’t even  _ met  _ Duncan then, but now he couldn’t have imagined his life without him. Shaking off the thought, he nodded to his friends, and together, they walked out of the dressing room and towards the backstage area. “Whatever you do, don’t punch him unless you have to.”

“What if I  _ want _ to?” Josie retorted, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I think we all have our reasons for wanting to give him a knuckle sandwich.” Ness looked like she was about to agree, but hesitated, switching her tone. “We do. But we’re not here to punch him. We’re here to reset history, save the people who got erased, and get back to our own time. That’s that. Come on, we don’t want to be late.”

They silently took the stage, each of them settling behind a microphone stand in the row that was set up on the right side, watching Toto walk on in front of them, and waited for the applause for the conductor to die down. Three counts passed before they sang four words in sync with Toto:

_ “Insieme, unite, unite, Europe!” _

The song seemed to go on for six minutes instead of three, each note twice as long as it should have been, every syllable stretching out for seconds.

It was almost painfully slow, but eventually, the final chorus came.

Now was the time.

The four of them took a deep breath, and, perfectly in sync, absolutely butchered the note.

It came out not as a clear, high note as intended, but instead as a synchronised screech--more like a bird call than anything the human voice could produce. For a moment, it felt like time had stopped, but then the applause began and they took their bows before getting offstage, whispering to each other in a flurry of emotions. “We did it!” Vogel nearly started bouncing up and down with excitement, but before she could, someone else stepped into the hallway with them. Someone dressed all in white and with a stone-cold expression.

Toto had followed them, and he was furious.


	7. Hajde da ludujemo (Let's get crazy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by the one, the only, @duncanlaurence.

Vanja noticed Toto glance around, most likely to make sure that there were no spectators for whatever was about to go down. See, that was the fault in their otherwise foolproof plan.

Toto  _ wanted _ to win.

Toto would do _ anything _ to win.

And now, the Euro365 crew had most likely ruined his chances. Unfortunately for them, the hallway was deserted, with most of the teams already back in the green rooms or nervously preparing for their performance.

Vanja could see in Toto’s eyebrow (honestly, he couldn’t call what Toto had on his face  _ eyebrows _ , they were like one unit) that he was about to start swinging. He shot a glance at his crew members, but didn’t worry too much. This wasn’t their first fight.

Well, perhaps it was Josie’s first fight, but he was sure she could throw a good punch when she needed to.

“What the hell was that?!” Toto asked furiously, taking a threatening step towards them. Ness was standing closest to him, but she stood her ground. While the man was taller than her, she had the advantage of being more attractive. “Have any of you idiots ever taken a singing class before? You  _ ruined  _ it, now no one will vote for me--I mean, for Italy.” Toto amended. 

“I mean….” Vogel shrugged, “if one butchered note ruins your odds, I’m sure the song wasn’t that good to begin with. Uniting Europe? Not very original, is it now?” 

That was the wrong thing to say.

Toto turned red with anger, contrasting with his white suit. He angrily took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He ran a hand through his hair, and Vanja couldn’t help but notice how greasy it was up close. Not a great look. 

Before he could continue this train of thought, though, Toto had lashed out at Ness, who was still standing closest to him.

She dodged his fist with ease, but the atmosphere in the hallway had changed: it was even more tense, and a fight was sure to happen now. Ness punched Toto in the stomach, causing him to double over. “Shit,” she cursed, wringing her hand in pain. “It’s like he’s made of stone. Maybe he really  _ is _ a sculpture gone wrong.” 

“A  _ WHAT? _ ” Toto yelled, getting up again. Ness jumped away at the loud noise, and Toto’s eyebrow turned to Vanja. “You really need to learn to keep your girls in check,” he snarled.

Vanja was proud to call himself a feminist, alright? This sexist asshole was not going to call his colleagues and friends ‘his girls’, not on his watch. “You piece of shit,” he said, and it was like all of his anger from the past weeks caught up with him, finally boiling over. Not only because of Toto being a complete douchebag, but also his anger over losing Duncan. It was this man’s fault that the love of his life had disappeared without a trace, and he would pay for it. Not just by losing Eurovision, but also physically. Vanja felt ready to use his favorite weapons again, curling his hand into a fist, when Vogel whispered something in his ear. 

“Not his face,” she said quickly, “we promised that to Josie.”

Vanja laughed, probably sounding like a maniac, and hit Toto’s arm. The  _ crack _ that followed was as satisfying as he had hoped. Of course, Vanja was so strong that his punch had caused a lot of damage. 

Toto yelled out in pain, but it was covered by the artist on stage belting out a high note. He started swinging his arms around wildly, not even checking who or what was in his way. It was like he was blind with rage. Miraculously, his hair remained in the exact same spot. 

A full fight broke out between the Euro365 crew and Toto now. Vogel kicked him in the shins, but for that, Vanja had to suffer a punch to the head. He hoped a black eye was a good look for him. While Toto was strong, it became clear after a minute of swinging fists and screams of pain, that he was no match for the four friends. 

Josie was the one who saw the motivation and hope leave his eyes. He knew he didn’t stand a chance. Looking at his strange, strange face, as if a clay bust had fallen down while it was still wet, she stepped forward. She had never been one for violence, but at this point it was just a favor to all of humanity--literally. Her fist collided with his face and he fell down. Josie laughed loudly. “Where are your stans now?!” She yelled.

Toto didn’t respond. He was out cold on the hallway floor. There was some blood in his eyebrow, but nothing major to be concerned about. At the same time, the last song of the evening ended, and more movement began to happen around them. Without talking, the crew agreed to pick him up and bring him back to the dressing room. 

The wait for the results was excruciatingly long. Toto remained passed out as the Euro365 gang was nervously watching the TV. What if it had gone wrong? What if Toto had still won, despite their attempts? What would happen to the winners, and most importantly:  _ what would happen to Duncan? _

The interval act went by, and then the voting started. Vanja missed the new voting system, where he didn’t have to hear every point a country received. Italy got points, but not as many as he recalled they had received before. Once, they got 12 points and the camera panned over to where Toto was supposed to be sitting: it was empty. No one really seemed bothered by it.

It wasn’t until country number 18 that it was clear: Toto couldn’t get enough points anymore to catch up with France. 

Soon, France was crowned the winner. Toto didn’t win. Vanja’s heart started speeding up even more, and suddenly everything seemed to spin around them. He heard a strange, high noise from somewhere close to them. Ness carefully lifted the object where the sound came from: the trophy. 

“We have to go back!” Vogel said, putting her hand on the trophy. “It’s like it’s calling for us to return now!”

Josie and Ness followed her move, also putting their hands on the trophy. Vanja felt like his heart would burst out of his chest. It had to have worked, otherwise they would have gone back in time for nothing. He took a deep breath and put his hand on the trophy. 

It seemed to take longer than the previous time for them to arrive at their destination. Vanja wasn’t sure if it was actually true. All he knew was that after what felt like hours of spinning, they had safely landed in a familiar apartment. 

He felt dizzy, and his exhaustion seemed to catch up with him as he fell to the floor. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear someone call out his name. 

“ _ VANJA!” _ The voice seemed to get closer.

Closer.

Even closer, until he felt somebody’s hand on his cheek. He didn’t realize his eyes were closed until he opened them again. When he saw who was kneeling beside him, he promptly felt his heart stop. Or, perhaps, it was beating faster than it ever had before. 

“ _ Duncan.” _


	8. Hemel en aarde (Heaven and earth)

_ He was back. _

Duncan had returned to him, looking as if nothing had changed. Sure, there was concern etched on his face, rather than the normal smile he had whenever he saw Vanja, but it was still him. He was even wearing one of Vanja’s sweaters, despite it being June, a soft, dark green one that brought out the gold flecks in his eyes. “It’s you.” He whispered, sitting up and reaching out for him. As the two of them embraced, their foreheads pressed together, a flood of emotions rushed through Vanja’s body.

Finally,  _ finally _ , his heart was home again.

It was like Duncan had said all those weeks ago: home wasn’t a set place.

It was wherever they were together, wherever they could  _ be _ together.

Something bumped against his leg, and he tore his gaze from Duncan’s face to see Praznina sitting patiently at his side, looking up at them with her big green eyes. A shaky laugh escaped from his mouth. “She missed us.”

“Where have you been? Why is Ness holding my trophy? And most importantly, who’s our new friend?” They explained everything as quickly as possible, pausing every so often to make sure he was still following the conversation. “The last things I remember were your voice, and you holding my hand. Seeing things I’d never get to experience. Then it all went black. You travelled through time to bring me back?” Vogel nodded. “We fought Toto Cutugno. Let’s just say it was an experience.”

“Is that where my darling Vanja got a black eye?” They had been back together for barely ten minutes, and already Duncan was fussing over him. Not that Vanja was complaining--he liked having someone take care of him, and hearing Duncan call him his  _ darling _ set butterflies off in his stomach. “He threw a mean right hook. But we fixed the timeline so he never won. France is now the rightful winner of 1990.” Ness coughed. “Excuse me? As if it  _ wasn’t  _ before?” They all shared a laugh and made plans for a family dinner the following night before the others left, leaving Vanja and Duncan alone. “I have to know. How bad was it for you? Having me gone?”

Vanja’s first instinct was to lie, to tell him it hadn’t been that bad, if only not to worry him, but one look at his fiancé’s face made that instinct fly away faster than the UK’s point accumulation in 1997, the truth immediately coming out. “It was bad, Duncan.  _ Really _ bad. I woke up screaming nearly every night because I couldn’t get that day out of my mind. It just wouldn’t leave, no matter how hard I tried.  _ Bogu _ , if it weren’t for Praznina practically yelling at me until I ate, I would have wasted away. Honestly? I’m not sure if I’ll ever be the same after this whole ordeal.” What he said next horrified Duncan to the extremes.

“If you don’t want to get married anymore, I understand.”

He looked like he was about to cry, but he kept talking. “I’m not the same man that I was, and I don’t want you to-” Duncan cut him off by pulling him into his arms and kissing him hard, tears forming in his eyes at the mere  _ thought _ of leaving him. “You listen to me, Vanja Radovanović.” He almost sounded angry instead of saddened, but he brushed off any thoughts of what tone he might have and continued on with his rant of just how he felt about that.

“I knew that you weren’t going to be the exact same man that I knew and loved before I died.  _ I do not care. _ I still cannot wait to call myself your husband. To wake up next to you every morning and remember what I promised you at our wedding. To grow old with you and have a small crisis when I find a gray hair. Above all, I cannot wait to be  _ yours _ . People change all the time--it’s human nature. As long as  _ this _ -” He placed a hand over Vanja’s heart, “is beating, I will love you, and even if you’re no longer with me, God forbid, I will love you, too. It’s been proven to me that fate exists. You know how?”

“No, but you’re probably going to tell me.”

It was a bad joke, but it made Duncan smile--perhaps the old Vanja with his odd sense of humour wasn’t completely gone after all. “You fought for me. You  _ literally  _ changed history for me. If it were the other way around, you can bet your ass I would have done the same for you. You might turn me into a lovesick mess, but I know you’ll always be there to comfort me when I need it. No matter what the world throws at us, we were meant to be together.” Something about what Duncan had said felt familiar, and when Vanja realised it, he groaned audibly. “Duncan de Moor. You did  _ not  _ just quote ‘Hemel en Aarde’ at me.”

“I told you you make me a lovesick mess, and with that comes me quoting random Dutch songs at you.” He tried to say something else, but it was interrupted by a massive yawn. “Someone’s tired.”

“You try coming back from the dead and see how much energy you have.” As they got ready for bed, Vanja suddenly grew anxious; what if the nightmares came back? It must have been showing on his face, because instead of putting his arm around him and hugging him from behind, Duncan drew him into a hug that put them face-to-face. “I know we don’t normally sleep face-to-face, but...can we, just for tonight? I think it might help me sleep better.” Leave it to Duncan to figure out what he was worried about and rephrase it so he’d be comfortable without having to ask. “I’d like that.” His eyelids grew heavy, the last thing he felt before sleep claimed him being a gentle kiss on his forehead, and he fell into a deep, pleasantly dreamless sleep.

When he woke up the following morning, the first thing he heard was Praznina purring just above his head. Duncan was still asleep, his already-messy hair now a riot of curls. This close up, he didn’t need glasses or contacts to appreciate just how beautiful the man sleeping next to him was.  _ An angel in a human body _ , _ but even angels would be jealous of his beauty _ , Vanja mused as his eyes traveled over Duncan’s face, doing his best not to reach out and play with his hair. “You know,” Duncan murmured, eyes still closed, making Vanja jump slightly, “watching me sleep is kind of odd.” Vanja blushed and started to stammer out an apology, but Duncan just let out a giggle as he opened his eyes and kissed him. “I never said I didn’t like it. What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing much. Just how lucky I am that someone like you is mine. Someone so sweet, and kind. Not to mention handsome as hell.” A  _ mew  _ sounded above them and they glanced up to see Praznina perched precariously on the headboard of the bed, looking down at them. “You’re pretty, too, Praznina, but right now I’m giving  _ him  _ compliments.” He realised just then that he hadn’t had a single nightmare that he could remember. “One more before we get up. You keep the bad dreams at bay.”

“Good. You want to make breakfast, or should I?” He took a moment to stretch, giving Vanja a chance to reply. “Neither. Let’s go out. We’re celebrating, after all. Praznina, get down from there.” The cat let out an indignant  _ hmph _ before jumping off of the headboard--and straight into Duncan’s lap. “Help.” He tried to pick her up to get her off of him, but she stayed firmly put. “She missed you even more than I did. Then again, you were the one who saw her first.”

Duncan only had to close his eyes to picture the day they got Praznina. He had always wanted a cat, and when he brought it up in a random conversation Vanja had readily agreed, so they went to the local shelter in search of their perfect match (cat-wise). It had taken all of five minutes for them to fall in love with the little black cat once Duncan had spotted her. She had been put up for adoption after her previous owner had passed away; she had been there for nearly a year, despite being relatively young and cute.

Black cats tended to meet that fate, but it was silly that people thought black cats were bad luck, he said, that it was like saying people with black hair were bad luck.  _ “Besides, if that were the case, you’d be bad luck, and we both know that’s not true.”  _ Vanja had stared at him for a moment before he blurted out,  _ “Duncan, my hair is  _ brown. _ ” _

Smiling at the memory, he gently nudged the cat off of his lap and got up to get dressed. As he reached for his favourite sweater of Vanja’s out of habit, he noticed that his fiancé had said nothing about him stealing his clothes. “Not even a slight complaint?” Vanja did a once-over, noting the sweater in Duncan’s hands, before replying, “When you were gone, I made a promise to myself. If I got you back, I’d let you steal my clothes every single day. I don’t break my promises. Besides, I kind of like seeing you in my clothes, Duncy.”

Calm washed over him upon hearing the pet name. The world, it seemed, had finally returned to normal. He was in one piece, the man he loved was by his side (and letting him wear his sweaters whenever he felt like doing so), and they were getting  _ married _ .

Perhaps they had had enough crazy adventures for a lifetime.


	9. Moj svijet (My world)

“Do you ever wonder what life would be like if we hadn’t met?”

The question came one sunny afternoon as Vanja and Duncan were taking a walk along the Danube after lunch, hand-in-hand, talking about anything and everything. “Sometimes. Parts of us meeting feel like pure coincidence, or fate--if we hadn’t been at the same gig in Budapest, if I hadn’t tripped over that mic stand and you hadn’t been there to catch me, would we have ever even interacted? Honestly, though? I don’t want to imagine my life without you.”

“You and your clumsy feet.” Duncan murmured, earning him a laugh that made his heart skip a beat.  _ That laugh... _ he had missed it so much. “Not all of us can be as graceful as you are,  _ ljubavi _ . You could have been a dancer in another life.”

“Only if you were my partner.” He knew he was being a sappy, lovesick mess, but he didn’t care. At least he wasn’t blurting out the vocal equivalent of a keyboard smash, despite it being how he felt: nervous, in love, and overly excited all at once. It almost reminded him of the way he felt when he first realised he had developed feelings for Vanja that were more than platonic. They saw each other every day, as was natural when you were in business together, but it was during their many late-night brainstorming sessions, fuelled only by tea and shared slices of cake that they’d get from the bakery down the street, that he began to feel  _ more _ towards his bespectacled friend.

If he had to name it, he would have said it was a crush.

It got more intense when they had gone through their mad dash across the continent to save Eurovision the previous year. When the final battle against Kirkorov and Zelensky had begun, and Vanja called him  _ his winner _ , and then, later on, when he said that he gave him the strength to go on every day,  _ that _ was when he knew he was in over his head.

That was the moment he went  _ oh _ .

The moment he realised it was more than a crush, that he had fallen in love with Vanja, and that there was a damn good chance that Vanja felt the same way about him. A week later, the rest was history: they shared a dance, they kissed, and here they were, over a year later, planning their wedding. He blinked, realising he had gotten lost in his own thoughts, and turned to see his fiancé looking at him with half a smile on his lips. “What were you thinking about? You spaced out there for a little.”

“Just about when I knew I was in love with you. When I  _ knew  _ you were the one for me. During our fight in Dusseldorf. I had a dislocated shoulder and Waylon was threatening me, but all I could think about was what you said to me. That I gave you the strength to go on every day. I wanted to kiss you so damn badly then and there, but I held back.” Vanja laughed slightly, shaking his head. “And then you took my hand as we were walking out of the place and I nearly screamed the words  _ I love you _ out loud. You’ve been spilling a lot more secrets than normal--is there anything else you want to confess?”

“I love you.” It wasn’t much of a confession, as he had said it so many times to him, said it every  _ day _ , even, but he wanted to say it anyway. “I know.” Vanja smiled softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as they rounded the corner. “I love you, too. You’re where I belong, Duncan, and I want to be by your side, no matter where we are.” His heart started beating faster at the sentiment, trying his best not to verbally keysmash as he replied. “Careful, there. Sounds like you’re already saying your wedding vows.” It came out more serious than he had intended, and he cringed. Vanja didn’t seem to notice, though, replying, “Mmm...not quite yet. You don’t get to hear those until we’re at the altar. No spoilers. For now, though, I think we need to get back to work before Ness and Vogel kill us.”

Laughing, they walked back to the club, where they got back to work--but even when they were working, they got to be together.


	10. Epilogue: Calm After The Storm

_ Two months later… _

It was a quiet summer day in the Euro365 office. Despite the heat outside, the crew was keeping relatively cool indoors, although that might have been thanks to the gallon of cold brew coffee Ness had made and brought in for them, complete with coffee ice cubes.

Plans for Vanja and Duncan’s wedding were progressing at just the right pace; after a week of debate, they had decided on a small wedding in San Marino, with just their friends and family, and as much cake as they desired. That day, they were discussing seating arrangements for the afterparty (they refused to call it a  _ reception _ , they both hated that word, it was much too formal) when Ness knocked on the open door, concern on her face. “We’ve got a visitor. He says it’s urgent.”

Vanja shared a look with Duncan before they hurried out after her.  _ Urgent  _ could have meant anything. Downstairs, they were surprised to see none other than Douwe sitting at the bar, shirtsleeves rolled up, absolute panic in his eyes. “Thank god you’re here.”

“What’s going on, Douwe? You look like hell.” Duncan poured him a drink, but he shook his head, pushing the glass back towards him. “Not that kind of news. I need to stay sober--and so do you.” What he said next shocked them all, but it sent a bolt of fear through Duncan’s heart.

“Waylon’s gone off the deep end. He’s kidnapped Ilse.”


End file.
